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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25368670">and they read off our names</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Highsmith/pseuds/Highsmith'>Highsmith</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Queer Character of Color, Canon Queer Relationship, Character Study, Developing Relationship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Feelings, First Kiss, First Time, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Idiots in Love, Immortal Husbands Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Jealousy, Light Angst, M/M, Making Out, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Pining, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Canon, Romance, The Author Striving for Historical Accuracy and Hoping for the Best, Wet &amp; Messy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:34:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,961</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25368670</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Highsmith/pseuds/Highsmith</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He wishes he were Nicolò still, a knight fighting for his God, but Yusuf had to look at him with his dark eyes for far too many times, didn't he? He had to find him a house and teach him how to raise goats and bare his body in the river where Nicky could see, right?</i>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>114</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1678</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>and they read off our names</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Still haven't gotten to the comics yet. This is me riffing on the film. Title from "Long Live" by Taylor Swift. (Could've been Hozier lyrics; I barely refrained.)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The baker's boy—hardly a boy anymore at nineteen but perhaps they're all boys after all—has started lingering by the front gate longer and longer in the last fortnight. Both front windows face the gate, giving a clear view of his open, eager face from the house.</p><p>Although Yusuf speaks the local language better than Nicolò, and his smile is friendly and welcoming to conversation, they need to be careful. Yusuf himself has told him this numerous times. Here and now, they are Josef and Nikolas, though he remains Yusuf to him. He's taken to calling him Nikolas around the village and Nicky within the four walls of their cottage. Right now, he's walking up the path to the front door, fresh loaves of bread in his arms, the baker's boy staring at his retreating back with the sort of look Nicky recognises instantly.</p><p>It's an unusually sunny day in late April. Sunlight lights up Yusuf's face. It must warm his skin. They've had little heat and sunshine since they've come here.</p><p>They met again on the way back from Constantinople following Sigurd's leaving Nicolò and his brothers in arms there to make his way back to his own land, Nicolò catching sight of Yusuf in a narrow alleyway and stabbing him first with his longsword and then with his own scimitar to finish the job, which he never did finish. He stared at his motionless body for minutes which seemed like centuries before Yusuf finally rose to his feet, expression nonplussed and vaguely tired though conspicuously absent of the betrayal <i>his</i> killing Nicolò has brought on as of late. Nicolò remembers feeling much the same where the tiredness was concerned. Neither has tried to kill the other since. They made their way out of the Holy Lands more or less by each other's side, but then, when the time came to fork their paths, they never did, instead making their way decidedly together farther into the continent than either expected.</p><p>They landed in Britannia during Shrewsbury's Rebellion, which was rather poor timing, and afterwards they managed to find the most secluded village not in danger of starvation or disease. Not that either would pose more than a vague inconvenience to them, but some measure of stability is in order after a decade and a half of biting at each other's heels and succumbing to deaths upon deaths fighting wars which never seem to cease.</p><p>Nicky can't grow a beard to save his life, and Yusuf's faith demands he remain clean-cut. They appear younger than they are and younger than he feels. It buys them time here before they will need to inevitably leave. Or their infinite lives shall come to an end.</p><p>Yusuf brings in the bread just as Nicky busies himself with appearing busy. Placing bowls and a pitcher of fresh goat milk on their sturdy table before seating himself, hands in front of him preparing for prayer, is normal and expected. The silence is less so.</p><p>They've taken to talking to each other in a combination of Arabic, Genovese street Italian and Latin in order to construct sentences which make sense to the other, and Nicky has to admit his ear can no longer distinguish between the three as long as he knows all the words used. His Arabic has, ironically, gotten decent since they settled in Britannia, having here the patience and calm to engage Yusuf in conversation not related to their impending temporary mortality. As far as Yusuf is concerned, he's proven to have an affinity for languages which far surpasses Nicky's.</p><p>When he opens his eyes from prayer, Yusuf is already sat across from him. He's divided the bread in what he often says are equal portions, as if Nicky is a sightless idiot. He's taken to calling Nicky skinny and offering him more food than he is owed. Offering it back is ridiculous when Nicky can clearly see through his neat, plain clothes broad shoulders and thick arms and a sturdy chest. When he's caught sight of Yusuf bathing in the river near their cottage, he's seen firsthand the muscles in his thighs gleaming with water. Their lives have been both similar and patently different in ways which have marked their bodies up.</p><p>Nicky doesn't say any of that now. Doesn't say anything at all. He portions the milk agreeably and decidedly equally, never mind Yusuf's raised eyebrow. The bread is still warm at the centre, a good counterpoint to the chilled milk. The baker's boy must have just taken it out of the oven before setting off for their house. The very idea makes Nicky scowl at his meal, mouth sour and stomach rolling.</p><p>"The bread is good," Yusuf finally breaks their communal silence. There's what sounds like a question somewhere in there, but Nicky can't find it to answer it properly.</p><p>Agreeably, he nods into his bowl before sipping at the dregs to avoid words. Over the bowl's rim he notices Yusuf's confused frown.</p><p>After dealing death for so long, words hardly should matter, though they do for them. They speak to each other out of a necessity for survival, but they talk because they are now more than what they were raised to be.</p><p>"It is. Good." It's awkward, but it's the best Nicky can do.</p><p>He wishes he were Nicolò still, a knight fighting for his God, but Yusuf had to look at him with his dark eyes for far too many times, didn't he? He had to find him a house and teach him how to raise goats and bare his body in the river where Nicky could see, right? What of this changed Nicky, then? With his new name it's as if their tenuous friendship has crumbled, and only Nicky himself can see that.</p><p>"I'll buy from the other baker starting tomorrow."</p><p>Head snapping up, Nicky says, "What," hardly a question at all, his words lost somewhere in his upper chest.</p><p>"Our milk is good. He's hinted before that he would welcome it." He nods at himself as if it's a done thing.</p><p>It isn't. Because Nicky is astonished and utterly confused.</p><p>He shouldn't speak out of turn, but his secret must be written all over his face by now. "What about the baker's boy? He won't have a reason to come anymore."</p><p>Time hasn't meant much to them as of late, but it seems to have stopped altogether as Nicky watches a plethora of expressions cross Yusuf's face before it settles, finally, on concern, probably for Nicky's daring to speak so freely, and Nicky finds he can breathe again. The uncertainty turns to acceptance now that the words have been spoken, freeing him to vaguely glance about the room unseeingly. He bites at his lower lip, worrying it until the skin thins. He finally glances back at Yusuf to find him staring pointedly at his mouth in intense concentration. Their eyes lock after a long moment where Nicky licks at the tender flesh and waits, a little perverse and wretchedly hopeful.</p><p>"You must know I can only look at <i>you</i>," Yusuf nearly pleads, half-leaning over their table.</p><p>The concern reshapes itself into something different. Nicky doesn't dare hope, but he knows that desperate look well. Has seen it on his own face reflected back at him in the river water and the polished shield they use to shave and in his own dreams where he speaks his truth and watches Yusuf turn into Nicky himself before mocking him for it.</p><p>Nicky sniffs, hands shaky and clammy. "Must I know this?" Yusuf stares at him, seemingly about to retreat. Ridiculous man. Sweat gathers under Nicky's arms and at the small of his back. He mutters, "How should I know this if you don't show me?"</p><p>The walls of the cottage are solidly built to protect them from stormy weather and uncharitable neighbours. Wordlessly, Nicky rises from his seat to cross to the wall farthest from any windows and, thus, out of sight should someone peek in. Yusuf joins him but immediately to hover by his side until Nicky turns to lean his back into the nearest wall. They are almost of a height, but, like this, tense and not yet touching, Nicky feels small and insignificant. It's only when a warm palm cradles his cheek, steadying him, does he stand tall and proud.</p><p>Pressing the first kiss into his neck, ticklish and oddly sweet, Yusuf lingers by his collarbones before moving back to look him in the eye. They're close enough his breath touches skin like butterfly wings. Stalling, as if Nicky's face isn't reddening aggressively and his body hasn't started aching from the closeness, he exhales harshly a couple of times, even as his arms rise to reposition themselves palms flat to the wall by Nicky's head.</p><p>"I'll show you everything," he whispers. But it's not a conversation anymore, it's a statement of intent, a declaration of war. His mouth captures Nicky's, and Nicky is ready to capitulate.</p><p>His tongue is in Nicky's mouth almost immediately, licking at the roof of his mouth and the backs of his teeth, a kiss like none Nicky's had before. His back arches, drawing him closer still, and his cock, already hardening, stiffens completely and bumps into Yusuf's hip bone through their trousers, causing him to growl into the kiss, to cock his head to the side for better entry, deepening the kiss further even as his arms encircle Nicky's torso to bring them as close together as they can get while clothed, a thought which has Nicky moaning and grasping at his shoulders for leverage to kiss back.</p><p>Somewhere along the way, Nicky's back gets disappointingly pushed back to the wall, but his legs are parted widely around one of Yusuf's thick thighs. The memory of water on skin has him rocking eagerly against it. He keens at the contact, barely a sound at all, but Yusuf must hear it for he busies one hand between them at an odd angle, quick motions Nicky can't decipher until he realises both their trousers are now unlaced and Yusuf is taking them both into his warm, dry palm.</p><p>It should be much too dry, but both are leaking already, and it slicks the way enough to make it good while keeping it on this side of overwhelmingly sensitive, as if anything could make Nicky spill between them.</p><p>To his surprise, Yusuf's hips stutter first, and he breaks up their kiss to bury his face in his neck as ropes of seed mess Nicky up all the way up his shirt. He stares between them, fascinated by Yusuf's cock as it twitches against his, slicking him up even more. Yusuf's hand lets go of himself to securely palm at Nicky, the touch hot and lush with Yusuf's come easing the way. It doesn't take much at all, and, by the end of it, Nicky's panting up at the ceiling as if he's just run across a battlefield, barely holding himself up against the wall, thankful for Yusuf's solid body latching onto his for balance.</p><p>A bead of sweat runs down Yusuf's neck. Leaning in to lick it up, Nicky dislodges him from his seemingly comfortable spot leaning into Nicky's shoulder. Salt on his tongue and recently sated, Nicky can feel any and all tension has left his body. They lock eyes from close enough Nicky could count his eyelashes, and Yusuf's easy smile and clear face makes it obvious it's the same for him.</p><p>"My heart," Yusuf breathes wetly, face flushed, eyes still dark, and Nicky, ignoring the tentative blooming warmth inside his chest for fear it might overwhelm him but completely, wonders at having found each other's hearts on a battlefield.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I am emotionally depleted, but I hope you like this. Please let me know! Kudos and comments always greatly appreciated, dear hearts. &lt;3</p><p>Tumblr: <a href="https://rhubarbdreams.tumblr.com/">rhubarbdreams</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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